A rose has thorns,
Of necessity —
It’s not of scorn,
They preserve beauty.

So don’t be torn,
Over their cruelty —
Know you were born,
to blossom fully.

The fangs adorn,
Protective jewelry —
Don’t be forlorn,
Defend harmony.

Know we would mourn,
A world not flow’ry —
Embrace your thorns,
Be sweet & soury.